Taking
by Mynuet
Summary: Maybelle tells Corny about the march - and takes what she wants.


This fits in with my universe from the ficlet series "Twist and Shout" here on ffn. But since this was a) finished, and b) a higher rating, I figured I'd go ahead and post it separately now. I'd also like to acknowledge the story Mardia wrote for Yuletide, "(And My Heart's) Keeping Time", since she has a similar theme and a great story.

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"All right, kids, you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here – and if you don't go home, I won't lie to your parents about what time you left." 

Amidst a great deal of good natured grumbling, the room cleared to where only her family and the second white girl were left. She sighed. "Seaweed, borrow Stooie's car to take this girl home – and if you don't come straight back and get your homework done before going to bed, we'll be having words. Clear?"

Recognizing the voice of authority, Seaweed moved instantly to obey, taking the girl by the wrist to lead her out. Maybelle shook her head, still hoping it might just be a phase despite how obvious their feelings were. "Mama Essie, I got an errand to run, I shouldn't be too late getting back."

"Don't expect you'll be back before morning, this particular errand." Mama Essie gave a significant look and Inez stomped off to her room, rolling her eyes and muttering. Maybelle gathered up her keys and pocketbook, not wanting to argue with her mother-in-law, and headed out. Just before she cleared the door, Mama Essie called after her, "Tell your white boy I said hello, and thank you for the lavender water."

Maybelle stopped in the door and looked back. "What lavender water?"

"He sent it to me for Mother's Day," Essie said serenely. "Said that since Simon is gone, doesn't mean I shouldn't get presents."

"Smooth talking devil," Maybelle muttered, and Essie laughed. "Simon would've liked him."

Still cackling, Essie said, "Not with the way that boy looks at you. Simon would've locked you up and never let you out again."

"You just hush up, you old biddy." Maybelle swept out, knowing that her exit lacked drama given that Essie was now choking from laughing too hard to breathe.

The drive over to Corny's house didn't seem to take any time at all, and she still wasn't sure exactly how she was going to say what she needed to when she pulled over on the street in front of his house. His car was in the driveway, with the hood up and tools all around, and she stepped carefully and thought that she should've changed clothes before coming over.

His legs were sticking out from under the hood and she nudged them with the point of her shoe. "Come on out, grease monkey."

"Maybelle!" He slid out instantly, a huge grin on his face. "Need a lube job while I'm all dirty?"

Normally she would've responded by either scolding him playfully or responding to his innuendo, but this time she just said, "Can we go inside? I need to talk to you."

"Of course." He got to his feet and wiped his hands on a towel as he led her in through the open garage and into the house proper. "If you'll give me a minute to change... I didn't know you were coming over or I'd look a bit more respectable."

"You're fine." Very fine, and the five o'clock shadow, tight t-shirt, and tousled hair without a hint of pomade or hairspray all combined to make her insides do somersaults – but she was her for something more important than giving her hormones and willpower a workout. "There's something happening on Friday – tomorrow – and I wanted to make sure you knew it wasn't about you."

He frowned. "What's happening? Is Velma giving you more trouble about the girls singing their own song? Because I--"

"She canceled Negro Day." He dropped the towel he'd still been scrubbing over his hands and arms, and had picked up the telephone receiver when she put a finger down on the cradle to cut off the signal. "There's nothing you can do about it. She and Spritzer outrank you, and I heard them talking about what they could do if they needed a new program to replace yours."

"Let them try." It was almost a snarl, and he dropped the receiver to move out to the hallway and up the stairs.

She followed after him, although she'd only ever allowed herself to go as far as his living room in the past. "We're going to march." His eyes lit up as he turned back to her, but before he could say anything, she went on. "You can't come."

"The hell I can't," he said, seizing her arms and giving her a small shake. "Don't you see? If you have some white faces in the crowd, you'll get on the news – and if one of them is the show's host--"

"He'd get fired, tarred as a rabble rouser, and never work in television again." She didn't make a move to leave his hold, just spoke calmly. "It's not your fight."

Releasing her, he stepped back and just looked at her, and all the things that had carefully not been talked about over the years were burning in his eyes. "I want it to be."

"It's not!" Shocked at her own anger, she heard herself saying, "Do you know how I got the name Motormouth? My mama gave it to me, because she said I talked too much and too loud and no little negro girl had any call for making that much noise."

He tried to step towards her and she put a hand on his chest, pushing him backwards so he fell out of the stairway and onto the floor of the hallway beyond. "You don't get to talk, this is _my_ time! And I'm telling you, I have spent a lifetime knowing that good niggers know their place and work within the system. One toe at a time – well now it's time for my whole foot, and if it's got to go up someone's ass, then I'm sure as hell going to kick out as hard as I can!"

Breathing heavily, she loomed over where he lay. "I'm ashamed – shamed beyond belief – that it took a little white girl who doesn't think about what she's saying to show me that equality isn't something we're going to be handed – we need to take it. And I'm taking you, so get your ass up and into your bedroom."

His eyes were wide and staring, and she left him behind to start opening doors to find her own way. It wasn't any time later that she found herself being dragged in through the nearest door and pushed against the wall to be kissed like she hadn't been in years.

When she could breathe she said, "This don't look like your bedroom," and he glanced at the cream and baby blue room and said, "It's got a bed, doesn't it?"

Then his hands had slid under the cape and found the zipper and she stepped back to start pulling it off over her head. He fell to his knees and licked his way up as he pushed her slip up to follow her dress. She started shivering and tossed the dress to one side, no longer caring if it got ripped or wrinkled, and the slip as well. In short order her bra had joined the pile, and he pulled down her panties and sat back on his heels to look at her.

"I've been waiting so long," he groaned.

"So stop waiting."

She sat down on the bed, half lying down with her legs bent underneath her and watched as he ripped his shirt off and started getting tangled up and he tried to toe off his sneakers and pull his pants down at the same time. "I'm not going anywhere. Take your time."

"Oh, I will," he said, still tugging at his clothes, but smiling like a shark. She was so busy watching him he wasn't prepared for him to pounce, and before she knew it she was flat on her back, looking up at a white man that she respected, admired, wanted... Loved. And she didn't care anymore that it wasn't allowed.

She had been married four years, but she'd never thought about doing some of the things they did together. Where he put his mouth was a sin, and when she did the same after he'd pulled out, she understood why, because he was promising her everything if she just wouldn't stop and she didn't. They clawed at each other and then kissed sweetly until they turned back into animals and fought to touch and taste, and please, _now_ , NOW.

She almost dozed afterwards as he stroked the skin of her arm, and all she could see when she smiled sleepily was the contrast between the pale and dark that didn't seem to matter here in the quiet nighttime. She wanted to stay in that halfway place between here and heaven, but she knew she couldn't. "You still can't go."

He sat up, dragging her with him. "You can't keep me away. I don't care if I lose my job. I worked as a carpenter and a mechanic before, and I can do it again. We'll move to DC – they don't have a miscegenation law – and I'll take care of you and our family."

It was such a pretty dream, she didn't dare consider it for a minute or she'd run away to try to get it. With more willpower than she'd ever had to exert, even for keeping her hands off of him for five long years, she pulled herself out of his arms and started gathering her clothes. "I don't recall being asked about any of that."

"I love you." He sat up and pulled at the rumpled sheets until he was able to cover himself. "I can't just sit down and watch you out there, knowing how dangerous it is. What kind of man would I be if I wasn't there? Whither thou goest, I i will /i go."

"Not this time." She shimmied into her slip and sat next to him, taking his hand in hers. "I'm not ready to give myself into your keeping just like that."

She put a finger on his lips to forestall his protests. "It's not that I don't love you, because I do. But this Motormouth just found her voice, and I can't keep living with myself if I don't take the chance to use it."

Taking her hand from his lips and kissing her wrist, he said intently, "I don't want to stop you - I just want to join you."

"Baby, you can't. And if you try – if you just carefully don't make any promises and then show up tomorrow when we're already marching, I promise you on my soul that I will never speak to you again."

Corny leaned in and kissed her, softly. "You sure are hard on a man, Miss Maybelle."

"That's how I know you'll be worth me giving myself into your keeping when the time comes."


End file.
